Freedom
by On the Darker Side
Summary: Just a short fic based off of the ending of 3x11 when Maze cuts off Lucifer's wings. I thought that scene was so powerful, I just had to put my take on it. I wanted it to be dark, didn't come close to how it felt, but I feel like it's okay. Let me know what you think. Rated M for language.


**A/N: **So this is to go with the ending of 3x11 where Maze cuts off Lucifer's wings. That scene really resonated with me. The acting was spot on. I mean, you could just see how much of an emotional release cutting the wings off was. I think the show could have added more to the emotional affect, however, having a song over the scene, slow motion, and allowing the audience to really visualize how emotionally and physically painful it was, and the way he looked up to god at the end…. Just wow. The biggest "fuck you" of all time.

I'm currently working on another smut fic, I have been for over two weeks, however, I've had company over and it's really hard to find the time when there are always people around. Haha. I hope this little piece makes up for it, even though I usually don't write without smut. This was just something I felt really strongly about.

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Freedom

The salty smell in the air was something that he knew would never get old. The way the dark water gleamed under the moonlight, rippling as the waves gently beat onto the shore. The sand he couldn't care less about, but the way the ocean disappeared into the horizon, the wonder of what could possibly be beyond what was seen. He appreciated the beauty of humans having the wonder of the unknown. He knew what was beyond the horizon, but it was much simpler to pretend that the water continued forever and ever. He inhaled the clean air deeply, relishing in not smelling sulfur, ash, or stone. He had been standing on the beach since his final talk with his brother. He was staying. He made it clear. He even challenged dear old dad to do something about it, if he didn't want him on Earth so badly.

He wasn't going back. He would never go back to Hell, certainly for no reason besides him choosing to. He was done doing what others wanted. He had been done with that for eons, but for some reason, his family didn't seem to get the memo. Well, he knew how he could finally get his message across. How he could finally show them all that he would reside exactly where he wanted to. For good. It had been millennia since anyone from way up above had given him an order, an ultimatum, and he wasn't going to allow it to start again.

He could hear the demon breathing by his side. Her presence was typically strong, unbreakable, however, he could feel her resolve faltering. What he asked of her was difficult, upsetting, but very necessary. So she stood by his side, hell-forged blade in her hand, the metal slightly trembling in her grip. He looked over at her, her eyes determined, but her mouth turned down in a worried frown. He could tell his own features expressed worry, but he too was determined. Once Lucifer Morningstar decided to do something, he did it. No one could make him change his mind. Ever. Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked forward, standing a few feet ahead of her. He rolled his shoulders back, unfurling his beautifully white wings. The feathers were glowing from within, full of the righteous divinity he used to possess. For that reason, he hated them. He hated what they represented and how he knew that made Him feel. He knew his Father used to love to see all of his children, his _angels_, in their full glory. Stood in a line like the blind soldiers they were. Lucifer had been the first to question the notion of choice.

No more. Finally, he was going to take away any inkling of hope from those above that he would ever be in their control again. No, He cast him out, they all stood there and watched. As bad as he was, they were worse. Standing under His righteousness, laughing at him and his grand fall. It's easy to judge when you are born with no choice to be other than perfect. He refused to be that figure. He refused it so many millennia ago, and he vehemently refused it now. This had to happen. No other choice. Plus, this was his choice. Something he wasn't only taking away from himself, but from his Father above, as well.

With one final blink, he prepared himself for the task. He could hear Maze's breath tremble as she approached him. Grabbing hold of his right wing in one hand, raising the Hell blade to his skin with the other. With agonizing anticipation, he waited for the demon to start. He wanted to be rid of any last part of his former self, no matter the sacrifice.

With a silent sob, Maze pushed the blade down, slicing an inch into the thick muscles and tendons that attached the wings to his back. She could feel Lucifer tense under her movement, however, not a sound moved passed his lips. His eyes fluttered on that first cut, the pain more than he imagined, however, there was an immediate release that followed. Relief. The feeling was like relief. Gritting his teeth he took a deep breath, steadying his mind for the next cut.

_Slice_

Another inch down and he could feel himself becoming lighter. It wasn't a physical weight being lifted, but an emotional one. His soul was opening up, breaking free of its chains, taking a long needed breath of air. He wasn't sure how to describe what he was feeling. There was pain, there was sadness, determination, and there was anguish. All of that was muffled by the immense feeling of retribution. Everything felt so right. It was a rebirth, in a way. He was tearing himself, quite literally, away from the divine of his upbringing, and lowering himself down to the rebel he was, to be among the sinful humans his Father demanded worship from. He would stay, and he would lay waste to the desires of His precious projects.

_Slice_

Nothing. There was no more pain. He could feel the tugs of the blade, slicing and tearing at his skin, but he didn't feel pain anymore. He felt relief, liberation from what was expected of him. He was tired of being told what to do. He was cast out, and his Father still had the nerve to tell him how to run the prison he forced him to run? No. He thought he could send his brother down to get him back to Hell? No. He was staying on Earth to do as he pleased with his Father's handmade toys, and no one was taking him back to Hell, not even himself. _Nice try, Dad._

The loud thump on the ground signaled the severance of one wing. Lucifer already felt like a different man, but wanted more of the blissful feelings of liberty he was getting. He stood, waiting for Maze to start on the other side, this time more than prepared to take it. A smile spread across his face, unshed tears pooled around his red-rimmed eyes, and he still made no sound. He did not cry out, would not give Him that satisfaction. Instead he looked up, smiling as his demon began dismembering the other wing, slowly slicing and tearing at the skin to rid her master of their only way back home.

He stood strong, unwavering, staring up at the night sky, at the countless stars that he created, he spoke to his Father in his head. _You made me the Devil. You abandoned me to be the scapegoat for humanity's wrongdoings. You left me, your Wrath, to rule a condemned realm of souls you created. You deemed me evil, but how are you any better? You allow horrible things to happen to these humans you brought life to. You let them kill each other, in your name! I'm evil? No, I'm just the only son dared to question you. So this, Almighty Father, this doesn't hurt me. It hurts you. No more fucking games. No more being your fucking angry pawn. I am my own being. You cast me out. You gave up your right to have any say in what I do. Fuck. You._

With his wings gone, his smile grew even wider, the unshed tears sunk back into his eyes. Freedom at last. The closest to being completely free of all things divine. This had been what he wanted for so long. The rush of no longer being what He wanted him to be. Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil, was only who he wanted to be. He was no puppet, and he definitely wasn't one of his Father's obedient angels. This is what he fought so hard for: choice, and he had just made the best choice of his entire Goddamned existence.

_"Silence is the most powerful scream." _

_-Anonymous_

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**A/N**: So I hope you liked it. I was just feeling a bit angsty. I couldn't get into the right mood to work on my smut piece, but this just sort of fell out of me. Until next time.

**A/N (after editing):** Okay… so a few whiskeys in and I think I feel better about this piece. Still isn't what I wanted, but it's definitely better. Review if you feel inclined! I do love to read them!


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